


Chain of Command

by Tarlan



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-28
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU following Paris's 30 days spent in the brig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> Honorable Mention in the Media West FanQ Awards 2005

Ensign Thomas Eugene Paris, formerly Lieutenant JG, sank onto his bed with a groan of despair. When he had returned to duty following his thirty days in the Brig for disobeying a direct order he hadn't expected there to be many changes -- apart from his rank. How wrong he had been. The first thing that happened after he had been released was an order to report to Commander Chakotay, and that's when the first blow hit him...

****

It was 08:30 and the initial euphoria of gaining his release had lasted only until he reached Chakotay's office. He entered at Chakotay's command feeling nervous yet relieved to be somewhere other than in the brig. Having those same walls surrounding him for thirty days had seemed worse than his time spent in Prison in New Zealand. At least there he had been able to get outside for exercise, fresh air and, most importantly, a change of scenery from the 8 by 8-foot cell that he had called home for so many months. Even though the cell in the brig was slightly larger and certainly more comfortable, it had been a never-changing scene with, for the most part, only a restricted computer access port for company. Strictly speaking he should have been in isolation but Janeway had relented and let Harry Kim spend a few minutes with him every two or three days. However, he had been about ready to climb the walls of his cell by the time his thirty days were up.

Now though, he was free to return to his duties. He stopped in front of Chakotay's desk, standing almost at full attention while he waited for the Commander to finish what he was doing.

"At ease, Ensign."

That was the first blow. It hadn't seemed so real until that moment, almost a dream though not yet the nightmare it was to become.

Chakotay's dark eyes narrowed for a moment and, if Tom had not been so wrapped up in hearing his new rank spoken aloud then he might have noticed the look of sadness that crossed the Commander's face momentarily. Instead he misinterpreted it as pity, and he didn't want anyone to pity him, least of all Chakotay.

Although they had started this journey home with only the barest amount of tolerance for each other, he had gradually come to trust, respect and, if he dared to admit it, even to care for Chakotay... and he had believed Chakotay felt the same way about him. Tom knew the intervening years had given him the opportunity to mature from the arrogant 'Fleet brat that he had been when he and Chakotay had first met in the Maquis, and he now considered himself to be a fairly likeable and talented officer. Some people might think that arrogant but the Doctor had praised his abilities as his medical assistant on several occasions and no one could fault the exceptional piloting skills he had demonstrated on a far too regular basis. As an individual he had proved he had courage, determination and selflessness.

Unfortunately, this time he had demonstrated those particular traits at the wrong time and he hoped Chakotay would not condemn him for his actions. After all, Chakotay had once abandoned Starfleet to follow his own crusade in the Maquis.

He stood a little straighter but no sooner had he settled from this initial shock than Chakotay delivered the second blow.

"Lieutenant Marshall has been assigned as Helm Chief and, as your senior officer, you will report directly to him starting 09:00." Chakotay paused as if assessing the impact of his words. "Dismissed."

Paris had stood there for a moment longer as the second blow struck harder than the first. Losing rank was bad enough, but losing his place in the hierarchy of the Helm was worse still, especially as Lt. Marshall had been Lt. Staadi's second and had resented being usurped by a man he had called a traitor to both the Federation _and_ the Maquis. In fact, resented might be a little understated... the man hated him, and now Marshall had the upper hand.

It gradually filtered through that the interview was over and, still in a daze, Tom saluted and turned away.

"Tom." The soft voice called him back and he faced Chakotay who was now standing just behind him. "I'm sorry."

Paris nodded and left quickly before Chakotay saw him break down.

****

He had rushed back to his quarters hardly acknowledging the smiles and cries of _welcome back_ from some of the friendlier crew.

 _Welcome back to what?_ he thought miserably. "Computer? Time."

The time is 08:39 and 12 seconds.

_Christ! My whole life just fell to pieces in 9 minutes and 12 seconds._

His head fell into his hands but he took a deep breath, carding the fingers through his short, softly waving light brown hair and sat up straight. He had time for a coffee - real coffee - before his meeting with Marshall.

****

Lt. Joshua Marshall clenched his fists in eager anticipation as he waited just inside Briefing Room 4. He looked around the small room that served as an office for those members of the crew who did not have one attached to their quarters, and his eyes fell upon the immaculate table. He moved around it until he reached the furthest point from the door, and then took his seat. Marshall stared up at the closed door, knowing this particular seat gave him a more powerful position over the man who would arrive shortly; a man he had hated almost from the moment he first saw him.

At 08:59 Thomas Paris arrived outside Briefing Room 4 and requested permission to enter.

Marshall smiled maliciously as the ex-Lieutenant entered and stood to attention before him. He'd been dreaming of this moment for years, angry that he had been passed over as Chief in favor of this young upstart.

"Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen."

Marshall's eyes narrowed but for once Paris seemed to know he would be better off if he kept his mouth shut and let his new commanding officer bask in his moment of glory. That thought gave Marshall and even greater sense of power.

"Nothing to say?" Marshall smirked. "I knew a piece of shit like you would eventually screw up. As the saying goes, _shit always floats to the surface_. Have to admit I didn't think you'd last as long as you did, but I'm Chief now and you... you're just my little Indian." The new Helm Chief looked down at his papers and grinned, the smile never reaching the cold hazel eyes. "Beta Shift. 17:30 to 02:30 starting tonight."

****

Tom kept his face schooled into a neutral expression. Blow number 3 had just been delivered but he wasn't going to give Marshall the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt. Gamma, the Graveyard shift would have been better even though that was Midnight to 09:00 but at least he would have the opportunity to have dinner with Harry and B'Elanna and, maybe, spend a little time with them at Sandrine's. Beta shift was called the _social killer_. You slept through most of the day and were working while three-quarters of the crew were out having fun.

Oh well, he thought, maybe he could join Harry and B'Elanna for breakfast instead.

Marshall narrowed his eyes at the lack of response. "That's all, Ensign."

"Yes, Sir."

It was pointless arguing it out with Marshall as the man had been wanting to bring him down for years. Still, Tom wished he had still been Chakotay's responsibility. They may not have started out on the best footing but Chakotay had never been the kind of man to hold a grudge without good reason. It had taken a little time to show the older man that he was not the immature _flyboy_ that everyone believed, and that he had not betrayed the Maquis when he accepted Janeway's offer to help her track down Chakotay's ship. Eventually, though, Chakotay had accepted that all was not as black and white as it seemed and accepted that Tom had intended to deceive Janeway purely to gain a few months of freedom from the penal colony in New Zealand.

With a shock, Tom recognized a pang of despair that it was not just B'Elanna and Harry that he would miss while stuck on Beta shift. He would miss Chakotay's commanding presence at his back as they worked in silence on the Bridge. He would miss the sparkle in the dark eyes during those lively moments -- even though Chakotay was often the one to put an end to the small talk on the Bridge.

Damn it, he thought. He would miss seeing Chakotay.

These past thirty days in semi-isolation had been bad enough and, apart from Harry and Neelix, the only other face he saw on a semi-regular basis had been Chakotay's. Somehow the man always seemed to arrive exactly when he needed company the most.

Or maybe Chakotay was always the exact company he sought?

He came to an abrupt halt as he walked solemnly through the corridors to his quarters. That thought startled him, that he might actually have found Chakotay's visits the bright spots of his incarceration. But he had to admit that just seeing Chakotay was enough to lift his spirits.

And where was B'Elanna all this time? Had Janeway refused to allow her visiting rights? But if that was the case then why had Janeway allowed Harry to visit him but not B'Elanna?

The thoughts swirled around his head even after he reached the sanctuary of his quarters.

****

The rest of the day went by slowly. Tom tried to get some sleep in the afternoon but he wasn't tired, so eventually he got up, showered, dressed and went for a wander down to the Mess Hall. Even Neelix would be better company than sitting alone in the semi-darkness by himself.

"Hey, Neelix."

"Tom! How are you doing? I heard they released you. I was expecting you at lunchtime but I expect you had too many important things to do now you're free."

"I wasn't all that hungry earlier." Tom dredged up a smile from somewhere. "But I'm starving now. What's on the menu today?"

Neelix beamed as his hand stroked through the whiskers that adorned his face.

"Well. The special is my own recipe... Krik-a-let pie with soucon beans and raavit." The small but stocky alien rubbed his hands together and added, conspiratorially. "Seemed to go down a treat at lunch."

Tom sighed quietly as an unappetizing gray mass was spooned onto a plate alongside a yellow mass and a purple mass, wondering whether it had _come back up a treat_ as well.

"Enjoy."

"Yeah, sure." He eyed the food distastefully. "Care to join me?"

"I'm sorry, Tom. I have to meet Ensign Ramirez in the airponics bay in 5 minutes."

***

Neelix watched as Tom made his way across the empty Mess Hall towards window seat and sighed, making a decision and hitting his communicator. "Neelix to Ramirez. I'm going to be a little late. I have someone here in dire need of my company."

He had noticed the way Tom had been shifting the food around his plate, with none of it staying on the fork long enough to be eaten. He walked over and slid into the seat opposite, grinning at the look of stunned, but pleasant surprise as Tom looked up. They had not always been the best of friends, mainly due to his own jealousy at seeing Kes so happy in Tom's company, but the years had worn away at those negative feelings as they discovered they had plenty more things in common, including a love of seeing others happy. They both worked on that in different ways; Neelix tried to concoct wonderful menus and activities to take some of the sting out of being so far from home and their loved ones, while Tom created the most wonderful holographic programs to achieve the same effect.

He grinned as he thought of Sandrine's. It was still the most popular haunt on the ship, along with the Beach that he and Tom had created together.

"I'm sure Ensign Ramirez will be alright without me for a while. Now tell me, Tom. How is everything?"

"Everything's fine." He watched as Tom took a deep breath before placing the first forkful of the gray mess into his mouth, and then he looked up at Neelix in renewed surprise. "This is pretty good."

Neelix smiled. "So, everything's fine."

Tom took another mouthful, chewed slowly a few times and then put down the fork and looked back up.

"Actually, Neelix, everything sucks. My whole life sucks and my future isn't looking so great either." He looked away out into the starfield beyond the Mess port, his voice lowered until it was almost too soft to hear. "I really screwed up this time... and I don't know how to make things right again."

He looked back as a hand -- hotter than human -- was placed gently over his own.

"Just be yourself, Tom, and everything will work out, in time."

"I feel like I've lost everything. My rank, my position, my friends..."

"You've still got your friends, Tom..."

A short bark of a laugh.

"I've hardly seen anyone in a month and now I've been put on Beta shift I won't see anyone for another month -- or more. Any friends I had will soon forget I even exist."

"Pssh. Harry and B'Elanna won't forget -- and neither will I. You can always call on me, Tom, day or night. I don't need as much sleep as you Humans. Now eat up before the pie gets cold and I'll get you a special treat for dessert."

Tom lowered his face and grinned as the Neelix scooted off, feeling a small lift in his spirits as Neelix went straight to the replicator. A small warmth invaded him as he stared at the alien features, recognizing the truth of Neelix's words. Perhaps coming to see Neelix hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

****

Three days passed.

Tom gritted his teeth and remained silent as Marshall hauled him over the coals for yet another insignificant breach of protocol, this time because he had filed the end of shift report before handing the data pad over to Marshall first. Tom couldn't understand why Marshall was making such a big deal of it. The shift had been completely dead; no course changes, no speed changes... no anomalies. Nothing memorable at all. In fact he'd hardly pressed a single key for the whole 9 hours -- except for when he dropped a used coffee mug into the recycler during his 'lunch' break.

He had brought the data pad along immediately after the end of the shift but was now only half-listening as the man ranted and raved over how incompetent he was. It was not as though he had not posted the report to Marshall's computer terminal several minutes earlier.

"The trouble with you, Paris, is you've forgotten who's in charge now. Well, perhaps a little extra duty will help you to remember your place. Report to Lieutenant Graham in Engineering after the next shift for three hours extra duty."

Tom opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it. "Yes, Sir. Will that be all, Sir?"

"I don't like your tone, Mister. Are you trying to be insubordinate?"

 _What the hell is this?_ The thought almost made it to his face. Marshall was deliberately trying to bait him into doing something rash. "No, Sir."

Marshall glared at him for a moment longer, as if willing him to make some smart-ass comment that would give him the right to up the punishment to insubordination.

"Dismissed."

****

At 03:10 hours the next morning, Tom Paris found himself deep in the bowels of Engineering, cleaning the insides of the Warp manifolds. At 06:00 he crawled out and made his way back to his quarters to spend two days water rations on a hot, relaxing bath. Four hours later came the call to report to Marshall.

"Your Helm report was three hours late."

"I had to report to Engin..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You might have gotten away with this with Commander Chakotay but not with me."

By the time he got out of there he had another three hours extra duty tagged onto the end of the next shift.

****

Tom asked Lieutenant Graham for time to complete the Helm report before starting the extra duty and, fortunately, the woman was slightly more agreeable than Marshall. With a sneer she gave him until 03:30 and then he would start the three hours extra duty. By the time he had showered off the gunk he felt too exhausted to do anything more than crawl into bed.

Less than three hours later his communicator sounded: Marshall.

****

"What do you call this?"

Marshall threw the data pad onto the desk. Paris knew there was nothing wrong with the report but he leaned forward and picked it up. He placed it into terminal and watched the data scroll onto the screen. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"This isn't my report."

"Well it does looks like some poor excuse for a Helm report and it has your signature against it."

"This isn't my Helm report."

"Sloppy reports and sloppiness at the Helm. I don't know how you managed to conceal your incompetence from Commander Chakotay -- or maybe you didn't need to. You weren't fucking him, were you?"

Every ounce of common sense told him to keep quiet but tiredness and anger won out.

"Commander Chakotay and I do not have a relationship, period, and that..." he threw the data pad back in front of Marshall, "...is not my Helm report. Someone has altered it."

Tom looked pointedly at the Lieutenant, fairly sure he knew who had tampered with the report but knowing he'd never be able to prove it.

Marshall smirked at the insubordination. Without knowing it, Tom had given him the information he wanted -- that he had no special relationship with Commander Chakotay that could affect Marshall's own plans for Tom Paris. Also, now he had the excuse he needed to extend Tom's extra duties indefinitely without any fear that Tom would report back to the First Officer.

****

Tom sank onto his bed, head in hands. Five hours extra duty in Engineering after every shift... at least until Marshall relented.

"Yeah, and pigs might fly."

He crawled under the covers and fell into a fitful sleep. The alarm woke him an hour before his duty shift began, and he quickly dressed and made his way to the Mess Hall. Neelix was there, as usual, but no one else he felt comfortable with until he spotted one other person sitting alone in the Mess hall. He gathered some food and stood next to the table where the recently promoted Commander Tuvok sat reading a report, an empty tray before him, and waited for the Vulcan to look up.

****

"May I join you?"

Tuvok raised one eyebrow and inclined his head towards a vacant seat, watching with interest as Tom Paris dropped into the seat opposite. He waited patiently, raising one eyebrow slightly as Paris looked uneasy for a moment, and then Paris asked the question that Tuvok knew had a far deeper meaning than at face value.

"How are things on Alpha shift?"

"If you are referring to the ship then all is well. This has been a remarkably uneventful area of space. If you are referring to the personnel then I am not best disposed to discuss their disposition except to say that they appear to be healthy and well-rested." Tuvok glanced across at the slightly disheveled Ensign. "The same cannot be said for you."

"I've been pulling extra duty."

"Voluntarily?" Tuvok watched the expressive face close up. "Apparently not. Lieutenant Marshall has not spoken highly of your conduct since he became Chief of Helm. Do I detect a clash of personalities or...?"

"You could say that but I don't want to talk about him."

Paris chewed on his lower lip nervously. Tuvok knew he was not exactly the person Tom Paris most wanted to talk to but he had a feeling that Tom had little choice in his selection as most of the others would be on duty by now.

"I've not seen Ensign Kim or... Comm... Lieutenant Torres for some time."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at the slip that Tom covered so quickly, amazed once more by the tendency of humans to deceive themselves.

"Ensign Kim is performing his duties efficiently, as always. Lieutenant Torres rarely comes to the Bridge these days. However, I am due back on the Bridge in four point 29 minutes. If you would excuse me." Tuvok paused for a moment after standing. "Ensign Paris. Your absence from the Bridge during Alpha shift has been noted. The shift has become very... quiet."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I... preferred it as it was... and I believe I would not be incorrect if I spoke for Commander Chakotay too."

Tom found himself speechless as the Vulcan turned and walked away. He took another mouthful of Neelix's latest concoction and found he was smiling for the first time in days. At least he was missed, though he could not help but feel a small thrill that one of those missing him might be Chakotay.

****

One week later.

"Lieutenant Marshall, I have a request from the Doctor. It appears he has not seen his assistant since Mr. Paris was placed in the Brig. I had expected you to allow for this in Ensign Paris's duty roster."

"I was not aware... I'll schedule it in immediately."

"Dismissed."

Marshall stalked out of Chakotay's office. He was livid. Why hadn't Paris told him about the Doctor? Obviously the duplicitous Ensign had hoped this sort of thing would occur, waiting for Marshall to be hauled in front of the First Officer. Well, he would make sure Paris did his stint in Sickbay but he was damned if he was going to let the bastard off the extra duties in Engineering or his full shift on the Bridge. A feral grin spread across his face, his eyes glowing with inner pleasure. By the time he was finished with Paris the man would be more than willing to submit to whatever Marshall requested rather than face the bleak future that would spin out before him indefinitely.

****

Chakotay frowned as Marshall left his office. Something wasn't right. He pulled up the duty logs and noted that Paris had been pulling extra duty in Engineering for several weeks but, apart from a few insignificant misdemeanors there seemed to be no good reason. He decided Paris was probably running off his mouth again. That man could be infuriating at times and hehad been hard-pressed not to throw him in the Brig on a few occasions for insubordination.

So why hadn't he?

In the early years he had tempered his actions because he knew he had a problem with Paris on a personal level, but their initial animosity towards each other had gradually given way to a begrudging friendship. Chakotay leaned back and dwelt on that thought.

When Paris -- Tom -- had been placed in the Brig everyone had noticed the decrease in conversation on the Bridge and, for a while it had seemed strange but acceptable -- even pleasant, but as time wore on, he realised how much the chatter and jokes had filled the time. Duty shifts seemed longer; the atmosphere duller. Everyone performed efficiently yet without heart.

Yes, that's what it was. The heart had gone. Captain Janeway spent most of her time in her Ready Room doing all the reports that she used to hate so much. B'Elanna stayed in Engineering overseeing even the most minor of repairs and maintenance work. Even Ayala, who was never the most taciturn of people, had clammed back up completely with just the occasional 'Yes, Sir' or 'No, Sir' coming from his general direction every once in a while, and Tuvok seemed super-Vulcan without someone like Tom around to tease him.

And what about me?

Chakotay realised that he missed the small quips and the bawdy tales. He missed the off-the-wall ideas that Tom would throw into the ring, inciting other weirder ideas, until they had found solutions to the strangest of problems... and he missed the man. He missed seeing that dark blond head bent over the Helm. He missed watching those long, agile fingers dancing over the controls, the teasing in those bright cerulean eyes, and the way Tom's mouth tipped up at the edges when he was about to throw the punch line to the joke he'd been intriguing them all with.

Chakotay called up the crew manifest and stared at the image of Thomas Eugene Paris, Ensign.

He missed seeing Tom in Sandrine's. The place didn't seem the same without its creator racking the balls as Tom readied himself to deprive another unwitting crewmember of their replicator rations. He missed hearing Tom gripe about the food in the Mess Hall while simultaneously taking food from everyone else's plates, and he missed the sound of his laughter and the sound of other people laughing around him: Harry, B'Elanna, even the Captain.

"Chakotay to Torres."

"Torres here."

"B'Elanna, can you spare a moment to see me in my office."

"On my way."

****

B'Elanna frowned at the quiet sighs of relief as she strode out of Engineering. These past two months had become torturous to her. She knew she was a brilliant engineer and she rode her people hard, expecting them to give as good as she gave -- 110 percent, at all times -- but instead of being proud of their achievements, they grumbled instead.

"Humans!" She growled softly as she stepped into the turbolift, but her frown faded as she approached Chakotay's office. Chakotay was one human she liked and respected in equal measure, and she admitted to herself that she would have enjoyed a far deeper friendship if he had been interested.

"Well? What do you need?"

He grinned, not put out in the slightest by the gruffness of her words or tone, and she found her own smile growing in response.

"Take a seat. Would you like a drink... Hunjab tea?"

B'Elanna sighed pleasurably and then nodded her thanks. It seemed a long time since she had spent any time socializing, even with Harry, making her realize that Tom Paris had been a kind of human glue, bringing them all together. Instead, she had immersed herself in her work, truly believing that it was better for both her and the ship. She had fixed countless small but niggling problems in Engineering, and had raised the efficiency of the warp core by zero point eight- percent... and yet there had been no great pleasure in it.

Moments later she was seated in the comfortable area within Chakotay's living quarters, sipping at her tea, and realizing exactly what she had missed these past two months. Still, she felt a stab of guilt at relaxing during her duty shift, and thinking back to the problem she had been working on when he called her here.

"Well, I know this isn't ship's business... So?"

****

Chakotay smiled. This was the B'Elanna he had known for years; impatient to get directly to the point. He placed his tea back onto the low table and sat back, looking at her closely as if searching for an answer to his -- as yet -- unspoken question. She furrowed her already ridged brow, widening her eyes in a way that told him her patience was not infinite.

"How's Tom?" He asked, his eyes still scanning her face for a reaction, and he saw her smile falter.

"I haven't seen Tom for a month. When he's off duty, I'm on... and vice versa. To be honest, the relationship wasn't heading anywhere and this has made it easier to pull away. But I miss my friend. Harry misses his friend... and I think you miss him too."

She shifted in her seat to face him directly, not allowing him time to refute her final words.

"Chakotay, isn't there anything you can do? For once in his life he committed an act of total selflessness." She held up her hand, eyes closed for a second before looking back at him. "No. No, that's not true. He's done a lot of selfless things since joining Voyager... but this was the first time he stood up for something he truly believed in, just as we did when we joined the Maquis. He finally grew up, Chakotay."

"I know."

She had sighed and turned away, not really expecting him to understand, but he did understand, and it was this that had made it all so much harder for him. B'Elanna looked back, surprise in her dark eyes, her forehead ridges more prominent with the raising of both her eyebrows.

"Then why...?"

"It's not that simple. There's a chain of command..."

"And you're second in that chain."

"I can't overrule his direct superior unless there is a problem. I can't allow favoritism to flourish... but I can hint that rotating shifts on a semi-regular basis is good for morale."

He saw her face soften, as if reading far more into his words than he had intended to reveal, but then, B'Elanna had always been a little more astute than most people gave her credit for, especially where he was concerned. It had made them an excellent team while in the Maquis, and it still served them well now. Her voice was strangely gentle as she placed her tea onto the table sitting between them.

"How's it been on the Bridge?" Chakotay felt his breath hitch, uncertain how he ought to respond to such a loaded question, and B'Elanna swiftly added, "Harry's been having a hard time of it."

He looked at her with barely concealed gratitude, feeling that he had already revealed far too much without actually stating aloud how much he had missed seeing Tom Paris at the helm controls.

"It's been... quiet. Too quiet."

She nodded her head, then dredged up a small smile. "They're probably having a whale of a time on Beta shift."

Chakotay gave a noncommittal smile, doubting that was the case. He thought about the disciplinary reports raised on Tom Paris but decided not to mention them in case he raised greater concerns from B'Elanna. He decided that she had no idea Tom had been working punishment detail in her Engine room otherwise she would have mentioned it to him. However, that was not unusual. Those lower in the chain of command often handled punishment details just as he handled disciplinary actions on behalf of Captain Janeway.

However, Chakotay did make a mental note to check up on Beta shift at the first opportunity.

****

Another two weeks passed.

Tom felt he could cut the silence with a knife. It hung heavy over the Bridge but no one dared to speak unless they had to. His earlier attempts to lighten the atmosphere had been met with both disapproval and a reprimand... leading to extra duty. He sighed imperceptibly, closing his tired eyes for a moment. Beta Shift was not the happiest place to be. Both of the officers who took command were martinets; strict disciplinarians with no sense of humor or humanity. They demanded instant obedience and quiet efficiency. Fortunately for most of the skeleton crew that rotated onto Beta Shift, they knew it would be for only a week and then they could get back to the relatively enjoyable shifts under Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok -- and occasionally -- Harry Kim. However, Thomas Paris was not among that fortunate number. Marshall had seen to it that he was based on Beta shift permanently, thereby segregating him from his friends and from the ship's senior officers.

Between his normal Bridge duty, the extra duty in Engineering and the time spent in Sickbay as the Doctor's assistant, Tom found he barely had time to eat and sleep, and as the shift plodded on he felt his eyes grow heavier still. He was barely surviving on four hours sleep each day. He had forgone his trips to the Mess Hall in order to use the time for sleeping but earlier this week he had used the last of his supply of replicator rations -- not for real food but on high-energy, quasi-food. These were the kind of bars Starfleet gave cadets on survival courses -- full of nutrients but lacking in taste and bulk.

He knew he would have to give up that valuable sleeping time now and get food from the Mess though, secretly, he had been hoping Marshall would take pity on him before it came to that. He snorted softly, wondering if there was any compassion in the man, but knowing he dare not bring the subject up again in case Marshall upped the punishment detail by another hour. In the interim, Sickbay had been a source of...

"Ensign Paris." He jolted upright unaware that he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion, his mind wandering far from his duty station. "I'm reporting you for Dereliction of Duty."

Tom closed his eyes momentarily. Why did Marshall have to be the one to be holding the Bridge when he finally caved into his exhaustion? Well, maybe it was for the best. He couldn't go on this way. It wasn't worth it. Hell, he had nothing in the Alpha Quadrant to go back to so what the hell did it matter anyway. He stood up, legs shaking slightly from a mixture of defeat and exhaustion.

"Do as you please. I'd like to request an interview with the Captain. I've had enough."

****

Marshall's mouth tightened and he ordered the insubordinate Ensign into the Captain's Ready Room away from prying eyes. What he had to say to Thomas Eugene Paris was better said without witnesses. He ordered the computer to lock the doors under his voice command. He would have his say and Paris would then have to make a decision. Marshall grinned triumphantly. He had won; whatever happened, whatever choice Paris made... he had won.

"Dereliction of Duty is a very, very serious offense. Added to your current record -- disobeying a direct command from a superior officer, disregarding the Prime Directive... I reckon you'll spend the rest of this trip in the brig."

Marshall sneered at the soft intake of breath. Paris had barely managed to cope with the Thirty days detention, his fear of incarceration -- albeit benign -- having been exacerbated by the time spent in the New Zealand Penal Colony and the hellhole of Akriteria. Marshall's sneer widened. He had Paris exactly where he wanted him, and now it was time to make his own demands on the younger man.

"Of course, if you were willing to reconsider my previous offer of _protection_ in return for certain... favors... then we could put all this behind us. You'll find that I can be very undemanding, and very generous."

The hatred that sparked in the deep blue eyes took Marshall aback. He thought he had finally broken the other man's spirit but now it was obvious that Paris was made of much sterner stuff then his lazy, flippant attitude had suggested.

"I wouldn't let you touch me if you were the last living creature in this universe. I'd rather die."

"By the time you've spent two months in the brig you'll be offering yourself to anybody... just like you did in New Zealand. Even me."

Paris was a blur of movement as he launched himself at the smug Lieutenant. His fist connecting with Marshall's nose sending a spray of blood across the room, splattering the wall and pooling across the carpet as Marshall fell to the floor. Paris pulled back in horror as Marshall sat up, one hand covering his broken nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. Marshall's face hardened and a thin, malevolent smile tightened his lips.

"And that was your last mistake."

Without further delay, Marshall called a security detail to the Captain's Ready Room and unsealed the doors. He waited until the detail of two guards had appeared behind Paris.

"Ensign Paris has been relieved of duty following dereliction of duty and striking a superior officer. Escort him to the brig. I'll inform Commander Chakotay after I see to my nose."

One of the guards reached forward to grasp Paris's arm but found his hand shaken off as the Ensign stormed out of the room. They followed on behind leaving a grinning, blood splattered Lieutenant behind.

****

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay."

Chakotay rolled over and glanced at the clock by his bedside. He frowned and then groaned softly as he read the time as 03:25

"Chakotay here. This better be good, Doctor"

"Please report to Sickbay. There's been an altercation on the Bridge."

Chakotay sat up in shock and ordered up the lights, uncertain if he heard the Doctor's words correctly. There had been a few altercations between the crew when they first set out for home on-board Voyager, mainly due to the friction between the Feds and the Maquis, but that seemed to die out after a the first few years.

"I'll be there in 5."

A sense of foreboding came over Chakotay as he hauled himself out of bed and quickly threw on his uniform. This would be Beta shift. Within a few minutes he was outside Sickbay. The door whooshed open and he caught sight of Lieutenant Marshall seated on a medbed with the Doctor poised over him, working a bone-regenerator over his face.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?"

Marshall looked sideways to give his report, much to the Doctor's annoyance.

"Sir, I have relieved Ensign Paris of duty and he has been escorted to the brig pending formal charges."

"For what?"

"Disobeying Orders, Dereliction of Duty, Striking a Superior Officer..."

"Those are serious accusations, Lieutenant."

"I'm aware of that, Sir."

Within a few minutes he had been given an outline of Paris's behavior leading to the assault and dereliction of duty. Chakotay stared at Marshall, his eyes noting the drying blood on the man's face and uniform.

"Doctor?"

"Lt. Marshall has... had... a broken nose." The Doctor stepped back to admire his handiwork. He reached across for a hypospray and pushed it against the Lieutenant's arm. "That should counteract any residual pain. You can return to duty."

"I want a full report on my desk in one hour."

"Yes, sir."

Chakotay watched the Lieutenant leave and then turned to the Doctor with a questioning look. He knew Paris had a rebellious streak and could be a bit of a hothead on occasion but, usually, he was far too easy going to succumb to violence. The Doctor understood the tacit question.

"Lieutenant Marshall stated that Ensign Paris struck him in the Captain's Ready Room after being told he was relieved of duty pending formal charges."

Chakotay nodded. Was the charge enough to cause Paris to resort to violence? It was difficult to know. Paris had not been the same since his spell in the brig -- not that he had seen much of the younger officer recently; their duty shifts were on opposite rotations. He felt a pang of guilt, recalling that he had meant to do something about that, but why strike out at Marshall? Paris had always goofed around on the Bridge, although rarely to the point where he needed to be reprimanded by the Captain... or himself. In fact, Chakotay could freely admit that he missed the gentle sparring and asides that floated across from the Helm.

A quick glance at the chronometer showed it was still a little before 04:00. Should he leave this until morning, and allow Tom Paris time to cool down before he approached him... or should he strike while the man was still angry? Realizing how evasive the junior officer could be once he had time to calm down, Chakotay decided on the latter.

"Chakotay to the Brig. Bring Ensign Paris to my office." Chakotay continued on to the Doctor only. "I need to hear Tom's side of the story while he's angry enough to have the barriers down."

"A wise decision. I was planning on checking him over myself... as he most probably hurt his hand when he threw that punch."

Chakotay gave a wry grin that mirrored the Doctor's. "I'll send him to you once I'm through."

With that he strode away back to his quarters to await Tom's arrival.

****

The door buzzer sounded moments after he arrived back. Chakotay gave permission to enter and watched as Tom Paris was marched to a position in front of his desk. A frown crossed Chakotay's face as he noticed the fine tremors running through the too-stiff frame. He stood up and walked around the desk until he was standing barely a foot away. Tom had remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on a point on the wall behind Chakotay's desk, and Chakotay found he was staring at the younger man's profile, not quite sure what he was seeing and yet there was something wrong with the picture in his mind.

"Permission to speak, Sir."

Chakotay took a step back at the clipped tone. "Granted."

"I wish to be put off the ship."

Chakotay stared long and hard at the Ensign and then turned slightly to the guards. "Wait outside."

They turned quickly and left the room. Chakotay engaged the privacy lock and stepped between Tom and the desk, forcing the younger man to focus on his face momentarily before the eyes slid away to a point just over Chakotay's right shoulder.

"Lights on full."

Tom squinted as the computer obeyed the command but remained still under the Chakotay's scrutiny. Chakotay took his first good look at Ensign Paris for three weeks, noting the red-rimmed eyes with deep, dark circles beneath, the pale drawn features, and the hair dulled into lifelessness, its soft sheen missing. The beautiful blue eyes that so often teased and laughed were lifeless too.

He glanced downwards. The uniform that used to fit so cleanly now hung on the too thin frame and Chakotay would almost swear he could count every rib. He raised his eyes back to Tom's face just to convince himself that it wasn't just a trick of the light, and gasped. Thomas Paris had never been the chunky type despite having the sort of genetics that was prone to fat. He worked hard to keep himself trim and fit, so the emaciated figure before Chakotay was a shock. The cheekbones protruded and Chakotay could see the traces of blue veins through the paper-thin skin. Years spent in the Maquis seeing the results of neglect on the faces of those people held under Cardassian rule told him that there was much more here than just a simple case of tiredness; starvation and exhaustion were horrifically apparent.

"Sit down before you fall down." He watched as momentary defiance deflated into apathy and resignation as Tom dropped into a seat. "Chakotay to the Doctor. Transport yourself to my quarters... and bring a medikit."

"I don't want to see the Doctor. I want to see the Captain."

"Ensign... Tom. I need the Doctor here."

Tom turned away as the transporter effect heralded the Doctor's arrival. The Doctor took a look at the form slumped in the chair and frowned. He had seen Tom Paris five hours earlier but had not actually looked at him until this moment. His eyes widened as he wondered how he could have missed the obvious signs of exhaustion and abuse.

"Mr. Paris?"

"Doctor, I want you to run a medical..."

Chakotay paused, realizing that his verbal request was not required for the Doctor had already pulled out a medical tricorder and was running it over the emaciated man who refused to look in his direction. The Doctor's frown deepened as he watched the figures rolling across the tricorder's small screen. Eventually, he put the instrument aside and looked back at Tom's profile, his face tight with some undefined emotion.

"Well, Doctor?"

The Doctor chose to ignore Chakotay and addressed his patient instead. "When was the last time you ate?" Silence. "I can check the replicator logs and I can make a call to Mr. Neelix..."

Tom's lips seemed to tremble and he swallowed hard, knowing there was no point in lying. "I ran out of replicator rations a few days ago."

Chakotay had taken advantage of the silence to access the logs from his terminal. "It's been four days since you used a replicator."

The Doctor nodded. That figure concurred with the data on his tricorder but he couldn't understand why Paris was suffering from malnutrition -- even Neelix's cooking had to be better than starvation, otherwise he'd be seeing a lot more malnutrition on-board.

"Why didn't you go to the Mess Hall?"

Chakotay looked on, horrified, as tears started to glisten in the dulled eyes. He strained to hear the whisper and repeated what he thought he heard.

"No time?"

Chakotay had a sudden, horrifying thought and accessed the crew duty list. He pulled out Tom's file and then both he and the Doctor read with growing dismay as the story unfolded. In each 24 hour period Tom had been working a ten hour shift on the Bridge, three hours in Sickbay, five hours extra duty cleaning the manifolds in Engineering and two hours of writing up reports for all these duties. In addition, he had a variety of other duties, leaving barely four hours for sleep and food -- and this had been going on for weeks.

The Doctor reached across and accessed Tom's log of replicator requests going back one month. As the weeks passed the basic everyday meals were gradually replaced by requests for coffee and rations, until every meal became a high nutrient survival bar. Once the replicator rations had been used up -- mostly through confiscation by Marshall as punishment for some minor misdemeanor -- the Ensign had stopped eating... or so it seemed. The Doctor pulled up the Sickbay replicator log and was not surprised to see a minor food request whenever Tom Paris was on duty; nothing substantial, just a single survival bar that could be hidden and consumed easily.

"What did you need the time for?"

Commander Chakotay's soft voice was full of confusion and barely constrained anger as he wondered how something like this could have happened to a crewmember on Voyager. Once more he strained to hear an answer.

"Sleep."

Tom sat hunched up on the chair, eyes lowered in fatigue and defeat. Chakotay stared across at the miserable, huddled figure, his heart lurching in pain. This was his fault. As First Officer he was ultimately responsible for the well being of each and every crewmember -- and he had failed Tom Paris. Another horrifying thought invaded his mind.

How many more crewmembers are being treated in this way? Was Tom the only one being victimized?

Chakotay realised he had a lot of work to do; there were over 145 crew and he was not going to rest until he had checked the logs on every single one, but first there was Tom. He reached out and pulled the fragile man to his feet. Tom staggered for a moment as the weight of the past few weeks had caught up with him both mentally and physically. Chakotay wrapped his arms around Tom's waist and supported him as he led Tom in his private quarters and urged him to lie down on the large bed. The Doctor followed on behind and then, between them, they deftly stripped Tom, ignoring his weak attempt to stop them.

"I'll give him a mild sedative." But before the Doctor could finish coding in the sedative, Tom slipped into an exhausted sleep.

"We can beam him to Sickbay... or to his own quarters."

"Sickbay is too impersonal, and his own quarters too isolated. I can keep an eye on him here."

"And where do you propose to sleep?"

"Tonight? Nowhere. I'm going to start on my report to the Captain, and then I'm going to check through the crew records..." Chakotay trailed off but the Doctor knew what he was thinking.

"I'll bring back the Medical Report in one hour."

"Fine, but there's no rush. There's little that can be done before morning anyway."

"I know, but I need to pick up some additional items from Sickbay for Mr. Paris. Sleep is not his only deficiency."

"Of course. I'll expect you back in an hour."

The Doctor disappeared a moment later leaving Chakotay alone with his new charge, and he looked down at the sleeping man. In his sleep the lines of stress and fatigue had smoothed away leaving a child-like beauty that was oddly disturbing. Chakotay sat on the side of the bed and reached over to brush a damp lock of hair from the tall forehead but drew back when he realised what he was doing. He stood up, pulled the cover higher over the supine figure and, after staring down at Tom for a moment longer, he headed back to his office to dismiss the guards and start his report.

The hour passed by so quickly that he was surprised to see the Doctor materializing in front of his desk. The Doctor handed over a data pad, which Chakotay placed on the desk and then they both went in to see their patient. Tom had not moved at all, his shallow breathing the only indication of life.

"This should stabilize his metabolism." A hypospray hissed against the thin flesh. "And this is a concentrated mixture of essential minerals and vitamins needed to replenish his body supplies. What he really needs is proper food with its fats and fiber... but this should tide him over until we can get him eating again. I don't want to drip-feed him unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I've already programmed a high concentrate broth into your replicator. Try to get him to drink some when he wakes up. Little and often is the key."

Chakotay nodded. The instructions were nothing new. He'd had his fair share of starved and exhausted people to help care for during his years in the Maquis, though he'd never been so personally involved before.

"He'll be very weak. He's been running on adrenaline and tri-oxy-cordasylate for the last few days..."

"Cordasylate? That's a stimulant."

"I couldn't understand how I could have missed his condition so I checked the Pharmacy log. He's been injecting it in ever-increasing dosages -- enough to keep him on his feet, but it interferes with sleep patterns, inhibiting the drop into deep, restorative sleep. Not that he seemed to have much time for sleep anyway."

"Is it addictive?"

"Thankfully, no. He's an intelligent man, knew I'd have a subroutine to monitor access to any of the stronger, addictive drugs."

"So how do we proceed from here?"

"Plenty of rest, plenty of fluids... the broth, little and often until he's ready to eat something solid." The Doctor paused. "Sickbay would still be the most suitable place to monitor his progress..."

"Suitable for you, perhaps, but not for Tom."

"True. He is one of the worst patients I have ever dealt with... probably why he's such an excellent assistant."

"I can rearrange my duties to spend a few days working on a backlog of reports. I'll be within earshot whenever he needs assistance."

"Fine. Then all that remains is to inform the Captain."

"And Tuvok." Chakotay noticed the raised eyebrows. "I plan to call him as soon as I have finished this report. There is still Marshall to deal with... and I would value Tuvok's input."

The Doctor took one last look at the sleeping Ensign and had himself transported back to Sickbay. Chakotay stared at the younger man for a moment longer and then galvanized himself into action. Within half an hour he had finished preparing the preliminary report and now it was time to call Commander Tuvok.

****

The sound of his combadge awoke Tuvok from a deep sleep to instant awareness. Within ten minutes he was neatly dressed and signaling for entrance at Chakotay's office. Twenty minutes later the Vulcan had been appraised of all the details currently gleaned from the duty logs and the Doctor's report.

"Dereliction of Duty and striking a Superior Officer are serious offenses, but there are mitigating circumstances. The case against Lieutenant Marshall is more serious still. However, Lieutenant Marshall could not have been acting alone in this treatment of Ensign Paris. Others must have been aware and aided either directly by adding to the abuse... or indirectly through inaction."

"Looking the other way."

"Yes." Tuvok frowned; an unusual expression on his normally deadpan features. "Further investigation will be required. I will need to interview the Bridge crew on Beta shift and Engineering." He steepled his fingers and pursed his lips in thought. "The Doctor's report indicates why Ensign Paris's abuse was not apparent to him, as the stimulant would have been most effective during the 3 hour Sickbay shift. However, the effects would have been negated long before he started the additional duties in Engineering. Therefore, the officer in charge of that punishment detail must have been aware that Ensign Paris was unfit for duty, and yet it was not reported." The Vulcan paused. "Where is Mr. Paris now?"

Chakotay glanced meaningfully towards his own private quarters. The Vulcan Commander raised both eyebrows but then cocked his head on one side in renewed thought.

"A logical place. His condition requires monitoring but Sickbay can be too... public. His own quarters would seem the most logical choice but it would be a breach of privacy to remain uninvited."

"I'm glad you concur." Chakotay replied softly.

"I will start my investigation immediately... with your permission."

"Granted."

Chakotay watched the tall, straight frame turn and leave his quarters, for once more than grateful for the Vulcan's tenacity. He had no doubt that the Security Chief would get to the bottom of the entire sordid affair quickly and efficiently. All Chakotay had to do now was keep a check on Tom and prepare his own initial report for the Captain. He grimaced. Thankfully, Tom seemed to be the only crewmember who had been treated in such a cruel fashion. There were others pulling extra duties and Chakotay had placed a marker against their names so he could keep a check on them... just in case Tom was not an isolated case.

By 07:00 he had finished and had placed a request into the Captain's computer for an early meeting. He sent a request for both the Doctor and Commander Tuvok to join him in the Captain's Ready Room, and then he contacted Ensign Harry Kim.

"Sir?"

"Can you report to my quarters at 08:15 for an extra duty. I advise you to have breakfast first."

"Yes, sir."

Chakotay smiled at the questioning tone in the young voice but Harry Kim would learn the reason for his request soon enough, and Chakotay knew he would not have any objections to this particular extra duty.

****

Harry Kim arrived on time and paused in front of Chakotay's desk. "Sir?"

Chakotay stood up and walked around the desk, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder in a friendly gesture, but Harry could see anger and pain in the dark eyes that met his. Without a word, Chakotay led him into his living quarters, and ten minutes later he had left for his meeting with the Captain, leaving Harry to watch over the still sleeping Tom Paris.

Harry paced the room for several minutes and then stopped by the bed to stare down at his best friend, already berating himself for not being there when Tom needed him. He sat down on the chair positioned by the side of the bed and watched the rise and fall of the too thin chest, noting the loss of musculature, and the prominence of the ribs and shoulder bones. Even in sleep, Tom's face looked gaunt... and yet so innocent too.

 _Some best friend I turned out to be_ , he thought miserably, as he cast his mind back to all the times he had considered staying up late so he could spend an hour or two with Tom. Instead, tiredness had won out as he convinced himself that Tom wouldn't be on Beta shift much longer.

"Never going to let you down again, Tom. I promise."

****

Captain Janeway's mouth tightened in anger. How could this happen on her ship? She thought there were enough procedures in place for this to be impossible but... what was that phrase? _Where there's a will there's a way_. After the Doctor had reported his findings, giving at least some small explanation as to why her Helmsman's condition was not spotted sooner, she turned to Commander Tuvok.

Tuvok briefly outlined the interviews he had already performed and those he intended to carry out in greater depth as soon as the meeting had concluded. She nodded grimly but approvingly, eyes narrowing in anger as each breach of conduct was placed before her. Tuvok had already relieved Lieutenant Marshall, Lieutenant Graham and two other crewmembers from duty, confined to quarters while he concluded his investigation. Many others had displayed only shock, having not been truly aware of what was going on around them, being so immersed in their own work -- especially in Engineering where Tom had been set tasks well away from the other crewmembers.

She dismissed the Doctor and Tuvok, but asked Chakotay to remain. He waited, his face an expressionless mask that would look more in place on a Vulcan.

"How did this happen?"

"I accept full responsibility..."

She paced around him, waving her hand as if brushing aside his words.

"No. This goes much further than you. I should have dealt with Lieutenant Marshall earlier. I knew he resented my promoting Tom over him but, after all this time in the Delta Quadrant, I thought he'd put this animosity aside. I should have known... but there must be more than meets the eye. Marshall must have realised Tom couldn't cope with such treatment indefinitely. No one could."

"You think he was trying to break him?"

"Yes. But not so publicly. The crisis point was reached in the privacy of this very Ready Room. Why? What did Marshall actually say to provoke that assault? What had he hoped to gain by breaking Tom?"

Chakotay frowned. In his haste to take the blame for Tom's condition he had missed an important detail. He began to speak softly, as if to himself, and Janeway strained to hear, her eyes widening as the thoughts flowed on.

"Marshall could have had no way of avoiding an investigation that would have exposed his culpability so, surely, he had never intended to lay charges against Tom. He must only have done so in a fit of anger following Tom's assault. Therefore, he must have had another plan in mind." Chakotay took a sharp indrawn breath. "I don't want to make hasty judgments."

Janeway fixed her First Officer with a steely gaze. "But?"

Chakotay remained silent, not wanting to relate how the Cardassians would wear down a victim until that victim was willing to do anything -- anything at all -- to find relief from the torment and abuse, even if that meant accepting a different kind of abuse in return. It was all about power and control. From the sudden look on her face, he realized Janeway had come to this same conclusion and, like him, was wondering to what depths Marshall had been prepared to go to feed his power trip. Had Tom been given an ultimatum? The final crack in his control being the indignity of being told to submit, in all ways, or suffer even more physical and mental abuse?

Janeway shook her head in frustration, then slammed her small hands down on the conference table.

"Tom should have known Marshall couldn't get away with it had he reported it-."

"He wasn't in a fit state to judge."

Her eyes softened. "How is Tom?"

"He was still asleep when I left. Harry Kim is watching over him but I don't expect Tom to wake up for hours. He may even sleep the clock round."

"Let me know when he wakes up."

"Yes, Captain."

Chakotay accepted this statement as a dismissal and headed for the door but as the door slid open, her gravely voice drifted to him.

"Don't take all the blame, Chakotay. We all failed him."

He nodded, lips pressed tightly together, but unable to turn back and face her for then she would see the truth in his eyes, that he felt solely to blame for Tom's abuse. He was in charge of personnel. It was his task to ensure that everyone was as healthy and fit as possible for the duties they had to perform, knowing that Voyager could not simply call Starfleet for the replacement of sick or burned out crew.

He had failed miserably, and not just failed a crewmember but someone he truly cared about. Tom was someone whose company and friendship he had grown to enjoy far beyond the chain of command structure imposed upon them. He had not only let down a crewmember, but he had let down a friend too.

****

Fifteen hours passed before the first sign of restlessness appeared. Chakotay looked up from the report he was reading and watched the pale and drawn figure turn over in the bed, and then fall still once more.

Janeway had readily agreed that he should work in his quarters rather than on the bridge, though Chakotay had been spelled several times by Harry Kim and B'Elanna, giving him the opportunity to eat and perform any duties that took him away from his quarters. Now it was time to get some sleep himself. He stood up and stretched before pulling the uniform from his tired body. After a quick use of the facilities, he dressed in comfortable nightwear that consisted only of a pair of shorts for modesty's sake. Normally he preferred to sleep naked, hating the restrictions of material against his skin while he slept.

Harry had helped him drag the couch into his sleeping quarters earlier, having decided it would be better if he stayed close by in case Tom called out in the middle of the night. He slipped between the covers and, moments later, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

The sound of moaning and thrashing brought him back to the surface and, for a moment, Chakotay felt disorientated until he remembered where he was, and why he was not tucked up in his own comfortable bed. He sat up and ran a hand through his short hair as he watched the whimpering man on the bed, trying to decide if he should awaken Tom from his nightmare. Just as he reached his decision, leaning over the bed with his arm reaching out to grasp a too-thin shoulder, the blue eyes opened wide.

Tom gave a soft gasp of surprise at finding Chakotay right above him, and Chakotay quickly raised the lights by a quarter so Tom knew he was with a friend.

"Chakotay?" His eyes darted about the quarters, confusion filling him. "Where..?"

"You're in my quarters. You were sick and this seemed the best place to take care of you."

He looked straight into Chakotay's eyes in surprise but Chakotay could see the fatigue still lingering there, and was not surprised when the blue eyes drifted shut as Tom fell back to sleep. He looked at the chronometer to make a note of the time, just in case the Doctor asked, and then tried to stand. Only then did he notice that Tom had grasped his hand, entwining their fingers in a grip that had not relinquished its hold even in sleep. He sank back down and stared at the body and face now angled, childlike, towards him.

The soft luminescence of quarter-lights reflected from the pale skin, forming dark hollows between the sharp angles of bones. Light glinted back from the long, pale eyelashes brushing the hollowed cheek, and glistened from the moist lips that Tom had licked subconsciously, perhaps in thirst.

Chakotay sighed and spoke softly to the sleeping man. "Should have made you drink some water or take some broth."

He waited a moment and then tried to loosen the tight grip on his hand, only to feel the fingers grip harder. The eyelashes fluttered and the generous lips twitched into a bitter smile.

"Don't go." Tom whispered hoarsely and Chakotay settled back down on the chair drawn up by the side of the bed. Tom's eyes closed again, and the silence lengthened until he was convinced Tom had fallen asleep once more... and then he heard a soft, indrawn breath that was let out raggedly.

"He wanted to fuck me."

Chakotay stiffened as the almost inaudible words reached him, and then the full impact of those words struck him, giving him the answer to the question posed earlier. Now he knew how far Marshall had been prepared to go in his quest for power over Tom Paris.

"I turned him down once before... when we first got lost out here." Tom's eyelashes flickered but then he turned away, burying his face against the pillow as if embarrassed by this confession, his voice muffled as he continued. "He offered protection in return for sex, and I might have taken him up on it... if I hadn't earned your protection instead."

"You saved my life, Tom, at a risk to your own."

Chakotay recalled that moment in the tunnels when the ancient stairs collapsed, sending him crashing backwards. He had felt his leg break, had heard the sickening crack even as the pain flooded through him. The Caretaker was firing upon the planet, wanting to seal the Ocampa deep beneath the surface for their own protection, and there had been no time left so he had ordered everyone to leave him behind to meet his fate. Instead, Tom stepped out onto the rickety platform, showing more courage in those few minutes than Chakotay would ever have expected from a man that he had considered a coward and traitor. He recalled their soft banter as Tom carried him the rest of the way to the surface, how Tom had spoken of Chakotay's Indian heritage and whether he now owned Chakotay's life, having saved it.

If there had ever been such a debt then it had been repaid, then owed again, and then repaid once more a dozen times over during the years that followed. Tom had many faults, but Chakotay knew now that lacking courage had never been among them, and no one had any cause to question his loyalty to his friends. At least, not until the day he took it into his head to interfere in another world's problems -- against the spirit of the Prime Directive.

Only the fact that his actions had been justifiable on a moral level, and that he had been asked to interfere by a member of the race in question, had spared him from spending far more than thirty days in the Brig as well as losing rank. However, if Tom had succeeded in his plan of action then Janeway might have been forced to leave him behind on that water-world to spend the rest of his life rotting away inside one of their prisons, labeled an Eco-terrorist.

Chakotay swallowed hard at that thought, having never truly considered the full implications of Tom's sudden desire to stand up for something he believed in, even if that meant losing his friends and the home he had made on Voyager.

"He was right though."

Chakotay's thoughts were drawn back to the present. "Right about what?"

"What I did in New Zealand. What I would have done here... had it come to it."

"What did you do, Tom?" Chakotay kept this voice soft and gentle.

"Sold myself for protection... for a little freedom."

The silence lengthened and Chakotay almost believed Tom had finally drifted back into sleep until he heard the whisper of self-accusation.

"Just a whore."

"Survivor." Chakotay countered, knowing that even the strongest men had often been prepared to sell themselves in order to live, though he doubted he would ever agree to become another's whore out of self-preservation. But then, he had not walked in Tom Paris's shoes. He did not know much of the early history that had shaped this man, except for his most public humiliations and failures.

First had come Tom's involvement in the death of three cadet pilots after they all pulled a dangerous stunt and three paid the ultimate price for their stupidity. Perhaps if Tom had admitted the part he had played in the tragedy rather than lying to the investigation team, then he might have been let off with just a heavy reprimand in his permanent record. Instead he had panicked, scared of admitting his guilt because of his father, Admiral Paris.

Chakotay had looked over those records not long after accepting First Officer status on-board Voyager. He had been surprised to learn that Tom would have gotten away with his lies if he had kept quiet, but had actually chosen to tell the truth, which in turn led to his dishonorable discharge.

It occurred to Chakotay that Tom had lost his three closest friends in that fatal accident but instead of being given bereavement counseling, he was stripped of rank, had his pilot's license revoked and was then thrown out of Starfleet. It was small wonder that he had ended up looking for work in the Demilitarized Zone between the Federation and the Cardassian Empire, and subsequently joined up with the Maquis.

Unfortunately, a Federation vessel had caught Tom's ship on his first mission for the Maquis, and he was sentenced to the New Zealand Penal Colony on Earth for rehabilitation. Even though his involvement in the Maquis had been minimal, the Federation Judge had passed a hard sentence just so he could not be accused of playing favorites with the infamous son of a Starfleet admiral.

"Always wanted... to be in your bed." Tom whispered drowsily. "Not exactly..." He yawned widely. "What I had... in mind... though..."

Chakotay heard the soft breathing deepen, knowing Tom had fallen back into sleep this time. He felt the fingers loosen their tight grip on him but he was strangely reluctant to let them go completely. He was not certain what to make of this last sleepy confession, recalling Tom's propensity for joking around, especially as a defense mechanism for anyone getting too close to him. But it hadn't sounded like a joke. The words had held a bittersweet quality, as if Tom had been too tired to guard his true thoughts -- and Chakotay found he was wishing that might be the case.

He looked down at the tousled head, seeing the vulnerability in the sleep-softened face, and wondered how many others had tried to take advantage of this man. How many had used him to get closer to his prominent father, hoping to find that elusive promotion by getting themselves noticed by the great Admiral Paris? How many others had made his life a living hell, believing he had gained his place in Starfleet because he was the Admiral's son, accusing him of gaining promotion purely for being related to the upper echelon rather than on his own merits?

Could this be why he had taken such a stupid risk in the Academy? Had he been trying to prove to everyone that he deserved his place as a Starfleet pilot? It had backfired badly if that was the case, and Chakotay wondered how many of his so-called friends had stood by him when the truth came out. Had there been anyone left to stand by him after losing those three friends? Or had those that remained quickly fled from his side once he was no longer any use to them, afraid of being dragged down with him?

Certainly, he had been alone when he joined the Maquis, though Chakotay had only seen him twice before their paths separated, each to his own ship. Yet Chakotay could recall a hunger in Tom's eyes and had assumed it was for the thrill of being able to pilot a vessel again -- for no one in the Maquis cared less that Starfleet had revoked his pilot's license.

What if that hunger had a different cause? What if he had only wanted to belong? Somewhere, anywhere, with anyone willing to befriend him.

Tom had always been a social creature after all, so being alone must have been... terrifying. He thought back to Tom's earlier confession, that he would have sold himself to Marshall in the early days -- had it come to it -- for protection, for peace. Or would it have been to ease the loneliness? Any man would have been scared to be at the mercy of both Federation and Maquis crew but had he been equally afraid of being ostracized by both... to be almost totally alone on a ship of 145 crew?

Just as he had been these past two months.

More guilt welled up inside Chakotay. How often had he visited Tom in the Brig, standing cool and aloof for fear of showing favoritism to a prisoner? Could this explain why Tom had not come to him once his problems with Marshall had escalated beyond his control? Perhaps Tom felt he would gain no help from him, or maybe gain only ridicule instead. But there were others he could have turned to... weren't there?

Even once freed from the Brig, Tom had been plunged into another nightmare scenario, seemingly forgotten by his friends, and ignored by his new colleagues for fear of attracting the same animosity from the likes of Joshua Marshall.

How many days had passed for Tom without a single friendly voice to ease his loneliness?

 _I'm alone too_ , he thought bitterly, recalling the small pangs of envy he had felt whenever he saw B'Elanna with Tom, and only now realizing that it was because he had wanted Tom's company for himself. He had always enjoyed their macho banter in Sandrine's as they played pool. He enjoyed testing himself against the younger man, and proving they were equally skilled both in their verbal sparring and in their physical prowess.

Like a mating dance, strutting around each other, displaying their strengths, their beauty, and their worthiness, he thought in renewed shock.

Always wanted to be in your bed, Tom had whispered, and Chakotay no longer had any doubts that it was the truth slipping from an exhausted man.

Silently, he wondered what it would be like to touch and hold Tom intimately, and to feel his touch in return. He knew he could reach out right now and feel the softness of his skin, and even lay a gentle kiss upon the slightly parted lips, but it wouldn't be right no matter Tom's earlier declaration of wanting just that.

And what about their ranks? What about the chain of command? Could he take Tom for his lover without others wondering if he was using his rank to coerce a junior officer?

And what about Marshall? Could Marshall expect a fair trial if the First Officer is sleeping with the victim? And even if those in the chain of command -- if he could remain unbiased, would the rest of the crew see it the same way?

Despite the years spent together on this long voyage home, old animosities might arise if the Federation crew felt that one of theirs had been unfairly tried by a former Maquis for a crime against that Maquis' lover.

The only way he could have a relationship with Tom would be if he stepped aside as a member of the court-martial panel. He would have to let Janeway take sole responsibility for hearing the case and deciding the punishment of the accused -- if proven guilty.

But would abdicating his responsibility for seeing Marshall properly punished be in Tom's best interest? After all, how did Marshall's crime compare to an attempt to break the Prime Directive? Tom had been given a demotion in rank and thirty days isolation in the Brig for his punishment but Marshall could, theoretically, get away with just a note in his permanent record and a temporary suspension.

And it would only be temporary, thought Chakotay, as they could hardly replace him with a fresh recruit from Starfleet.

Chakotay pushed his hands through his short hair, feeling the soft spikes and wishing he had let it grow to a traditional length for his people. He looked down at Tom again, recalling a time when his blond hair had held a soft and healthy sheen rather than being dull and unkempt. But that vitality would return with Tom's strength now that he was being cared for and protected once more.

But how best to protect Tom?

His heart said one thing, his head tried to say another, and he knew he needed greater counseling so he moved quietly to where he kept his medicine bundle and stepped into the living space. Chakotay sank down with the akoonah and spoke the ritual words that would lead him to the spirit world, hoping that his spirit guide would be willing to give him guidance in this matter.

His inner eye opened to a clearing in a lush rain forest. He could hear the tiny buzz of insects, and the distant call of familiar animals, recalling this special place from his childhood. His homeworld was lost to him now, handed over to the Cardassian Empire without true thought for what would become of the people settled there. Many had died after refusing to leave their homes, his father included.

This was why he had left Starfleet all those years before, wanting to do what the Federation had refused to do -- to protect his homeworld and his people. Chakotay felt a pair of eyes settle on him and he looked up into the face of a jaguar, and he smiled in welcome.

_Home is where the heart is._

The soft words rippled through him, the golden eyes reaching deep inside Chakotay, and then his spirit guide turned and walked away with just the flick of his tail, leaving Chakotay alone in the clearing.

"Wait! That is not the question I wish..." Chakotay rushed to the edge of the forest but his spirit guide had gone, leaving Chakotay with a cryptic message to decipher.

He sat down in the clearing and thought on the words.

Home.

This world of his memories? Or was it the small ship slowly making its way back towards the Federation? Perhaps it was neither.

Home is where the heart is... but where did his heart lay?

Chakotay found he could not lie to himself in this place, and felt his thoughts slipping back to the man curled up in exhaustion and misery on his bed. He looked up through the canopy of leaves overhead, seeing a blueness of sky that mirrored the color of Tom Paris's eyes.

How long had his heart lay with Tom Paris? How long had he been deceiving himself that he enjoyed only a tenuous friendship with Tom? How long had he wanted to be the important person in Tom's life, and to have Tom as the most important person in his?

The question he had brought with him had been whether he should follow his heart or his head where Tom was concerned. Home is where the heart is, had been the answer to that question, and he knew deep down that it was the right answer. He would rely on Janeway and Tuvok to ensure Marshall received a fair trial, and Tom the justice he deserved. Then he would follow his heart and hope that Tom accepted all he had to offer.

The lush rain forest faded away until Chakotay found he was back in his living space, staring at the device in his hand that had taken away the need to eat Peyote in order to reach the spirit world. A tingle still ran through him from the akoonah, racing up his arm and into his brain, but he knew his walk in the spirit world was over for now.

He replaced his medicine bundle carefully and then moved back into the bedroom where Tom slept deeply, feeling the tension release from him with the decision made. Tom had curled up on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around himself as if trying to ward off the cold of a cruel world. Making a new decision, Chakotay pulled back the cover and slipped into the large bed beside Tom, drawing the younger man into his arms. He felt momentary resistance, and then Tom took a deep breath and relaxed against him, face nuzzled against Chakotay's throat. A single pale arm flopped over his chest, and a long, pajama-clad leg slipped between his.

Chakotay whispered gently his soft words of endearment, and then he closed his eyes as he felt Tom's answer in the body that wrapped itself tighter around him. He fell asleep immediately with a soft smile playing across his lips, now convinced that he had made the right decision.

****

Tom sighed as he woke up from the most incredible dream. In his dream he had felt strong arms holding him, and he had heard soft assurances from Chakotay that he was no longer alone, and that he was wanted and loved. For a moment, he did not want to open his eyes, wanting to hold onto the dream for just a little longer.

Strange, but there was a lingering warmth in the sheets beside him that only increased his wish that the dream had been real.

Reality tugged at him though as the aroma of hot tomato soup sent his stomach rumbling. He opened his eyes as he felt a weight settle onto the bed beside him, his heart flipping as his dream lover stared down at him.

"How are you this morning?"

Tom frowned, unsure how long he had slept but knowing it had not been long enough, but he didn't want Chakotay to think he was a malingerer. He struggled to sit up, shocked at the tiredness in his limbs.

"I feel... great."

Chakotay tilted his head and his dark eyes narrowed. "Great?"

"Okay... maybe not great but..." His words drifted off as the dark eyes sparkled with inner laughter. Tom sighed and collapsed back down onto the bed. "Actually, I feel like crap."

"You're weak from lack of food... and sleep. You need to eat. The Doctor programmed a nutritious broth into the replicator for you. I took the liberty of turning it into a thick tomato soup."

Chakotay placed the tray on the bedside cabinet and helped Tom sit up before handing the tray and spoon to him. He sat down on the chair and watched as Tom picked up the spoon.

Tom brought the spoon to his lips with a shaky hand, and sipped at the thick soup, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

"It's good."

Still he only managed a third of the bowl before he pushed it aside, looking covertly up at Chakotay as he imagined the other man's disappointment. However, Chakotay seemed pleased with him and took the tray without a murmur.

"You should try and sleep again." Chakotay moved off towards the door to dispose of the tray.

"Wait." Tom licked suddenly dry lips as Chakotay turned to face him with an inquisitive look. "I had this dream where you said..." He found he couldn't say the rest, afraid of looking foolish had it all truly been just a dream.

"It wasn't a dream." Chakotay's soft smile allayed Tom's fear, seeing the real affection in the dark eyes that held his. "We need to talk, Tom... but not until you're better rested."

Tom nodded, feeling a huge weight lift off him as he recalled the soft endearments and love surrounding him last night. Then he remembered the incident with Joshua Marshall that had brought him to Chakotay's door, and his pleasure crumbled to dust with the knowledge that what he wanted with Chakotay might never be more than a half-realized dream.

"I--I can't go back to the Brig."

"You won't." Chakotay's tone had turned as cold as ice but Tom could see that the inner anger was not against him. "Lieutenant Marshall is already confined to quarters while Tuvok continues with his investigation... along with Lieutenant Graham from Engineering. Two others have returned to duty pending a fuller investigation into the role they played in this."

Tom looked to Chakotay in confusion. Investigation? He was the one who had thrown a punch at Marshall, and he freely admitted doing it, so why was Marshall confined to quarters? And Lieutenant Graham too? Unless... unless Chakotay had stepped in because of the regime Marshall had set up to punish him for his misdemeanors.

"Marshall was within his right to order disciplinary--"

"No. He crossed the line, using his rank to abuse those below him in the chain of command. As did Lieutenant Graham."

"I deserved--"

"You might deserve the occasional reprimand for inappropriate behavior... but no one... NO ONE... deserves to be punished to the point where they are denied food and rest." His voice softened. "And no one should be given an ultimatum of sleeping with their tormentor, or facing worse punishment."

Tom felt what little color he had drain from his face, recalling his weakness last night when he had confessed how close he had once come to becoming Marshall's whore. Fate had intervened then in the form of Chakotay, and perhaps it had intervened again when Marshall had made that identical request all these years later. As he had looked into Marshall's gloating face he knew he didn't want to feel that man's hands on him. In that instant, he had known he wanted only one man's touch -- Chakotay's.

Tom tried to grasp at the hazy memories from his confession. Had he told Chakotay how much he wanted him? He couldn't recall, but he did remember mentioning New Zealand. With growing horror he wondered if he had revealed how he had allowed another inmate to use him in return for protection against the Maquis and Feds alike. Both sides had been convinced that he had betrayed them -- just as they had at first on Voyager -- and he had spent the first few days suffering minor _accidents_ that the guards had turned a blind eye to. Knowing it would only get worse, he had made a deal with one of the top dogs among the inmates.

He gave a wry smile as he thought of his nonchalant attitude when Janeway came to him that day and offered him freedom in exchange for his assistance in tracing Chakotay's Maquis cell. He had known from the start that he would never betray the Maquis, despite what others thought of him, but even temporary freedom was a welcome respite to what he endured daily in New Zealand. In truth, he suspected he might be the only one who was grateful when the Caretaker stranded Voyager seventy light years from Federation space.

It was then that the hurt of those early months on-board Voyager came stinging back at him. Although Chakotay had honored his promise to protect him, without demanding anything in payment, it had taken months for the combined crews to accept him without rancor. Earning first Harry's and then B'Elanna's respect and friendship had eased the animosity towards him, and gradually others had put his past behind him, and accepted him too.

Until a month ago, he thought he had finally put all that early animosity behind him and had found a family in the merged crew of Voyager. Now he wondered if it had all been an illusion, just like the holodeck programs he created.

Tom felt the bed shift under Chakotay's weight, catching him by surprise as he could not recall seeing Chakotay approach. Large hands grasped his shoulders, gently shaking him until he would look into the dark eyes.

"You did what you had to do. Then and now. It might not have been my choice had I been in your situation, but that does not mean it was the wrong choice for you to make." Chakotay sighed heavily. "I won't say it doesn't matter to me... because it matters a great deal." he shook his head slowly. "But not for the reasons you might think. It matters to me because you matter to me. It hurts me because it has hurt you."

Chakotay adjusted his grip and pushed Tom backwards until he lay back on the bed. Gently, he drew up the cover.

"You need to rest... and then we'll talk some more. About Marshall, about Voyager... about you and me."

A gentle smile took away any lingering fear and Tom closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep within moments, content to let Chakotay watch over him while he slept.

****

One Week Later:

Tom Paris leaned forward as he took in his reflection in the wide expanse of mirror. He rubbed a hand over his face, watching as it slid across prominent cheekbones and into the hollow beneath before brushing over his slightly swollen lips. Dark smudges of fatigue were still visible under his eyes, though they were not as obvious as they had been just a week earlier.

He grimaced, recalling the way he had pulled himself out of Chakotay's bed that first day and stumbled into this very bathroom to relieve himself, only to be shocked by the gauntness of his face and the sickly pallor of his complexion. He had looked almost skeletal with sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks, his hair matted and dull like straw; a far cry from the accusations of being Janeway's good-looking, blue-eyed boy.

His face had filled out a little since then, assisted by regular, nutritional meals and plenty of much-needed sleep. Still, he could not understand what Chakotay found so attractive about him... let alone handsome.

He frowned. Just a few weeks ago he had been under that same illusion that he was good-looking but all he saw now was a man who had aged ten years since then. He looked haggard... like something used, abused and then discarded.

Movement in the doorway behind, reflected in the mirror, caught his eye, and his self-introspection disappeared as Chakotay's strong brown arms wrapped around his pale and thin torso. Tom smiled, leaning back against the warm naked body, eyes drifting away from his haggard form to meet dark eyes that were full of love and caring.

"You've been in here a while. What's wrong?"

Tom let his eyes fall back upon his own face, frowning at how much paler he looked against Chakotay's healthy glow.

"Don't know what you see in me," he whispered softly, but instead of sympathy Chakotay grinned, his white teeth gleaming brightly against his tanned flesh.

"I'll show you," he answered gently.

Tom watched, mesmerized, as one brown arm slowly brushed higher, feeling the tingle from all the nerve endings touched by this arm. The pads of long, agile fingers rubbed over a rose-colored nipple, sending ripples of pleasure flowing through him. He gasped as Chakotay's other hand lowered to press against the slowly rising column of flesh.

A thumb and forefinger pinched at the already taut nipple, sending fresh licks of pleasure and pain racing through him, while other fingers wrapped around his engorged shaft, sliding up and down the length. Chakotay's thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, smearing a bead of desire across the flared head, and turning his blood to liquid fire.

Tom watched as those sharp white teeth grazed his throat, slowly raising a welt of welcome possession before the incredible lips nibbled their way up his neck to latch upon an earlobe.

Tom pressed backwards, rubbing against the rock-hard shaft that had settled into the valley between his ass cheeks. The pleasurable assault upon his nipple ceased as Chakotay's hand snaked around his body and then carefully positioned him over the bathroom counter. Tom leaned down onto his forearms, his forehead pressed against the mirror's cold surface, parting his legs at the gentle insistence. He felt momentary loss as Chakotay pulled away, but then he returned, and Tom felt the warmth of gel sliding between his ass cheeks as strong fingers stroked it into the hidden muscle. Tom pushed back against the knowing fingers, aiding their penetration of his body. He rocked back and forward to the rhythm of those thrusting fingers, eyes glazed over with passion as Chakotay continued to pump at his hardened flesh with the other hand.

He gasped as the fingers left his ass, feeling the blunt tip of Chakotay's erection pressing against the loosened muscle. Tom hissed softly as the thick shaft breached the entrance to his body, slowly filling him with small, gentle forward thrusts until he could feel the crisper hairs of Chakotay's groin against the flesh of his ass.

Tom pushed back hard in counterpoint to one gentle thrust from Chakotay's hips, moaning in increased pleasure as the shaft rubbed across the gland inside. He softly begged for more, sobbing as Chakotay gave him what he needed, feeling his body slowly spiraling out of control as he flew higher and higher with each stroke both inside and out of his body.

As he reached that moment of annihilation, with body and mind caught high on a precipice above a long drop into the abyss, his eyes opened wide and focused on his own face, caught in that moment of pure rapture.

And he was beautiful... as beautiful as the lover who had brought him to this moment of ecstasy.

He came hard, every muscle spasming in pleasure as he gasped out his completion. Chakotay released his rapidly softening shaft and grasped Tom's lean hips, thrusting in short, hard jabs inside him. And then he froze momentarily, the rhythm changing to long, deep thrusts as Tom felt the heat of his lover's release fill him.

Chakotay collapsed across Tom's back, his cheek resting on Tom's shoulder, his body trembling from spent passion. He raised his head and stared at Tom's reflection in the mirror.

"Do you see now?" He asked, and Tom could easily read the love and pleasure in the sparkling eyes, knowing it was for him alone. He grinned, enjoying the warmth of Chakotay's body along his back and shivering in delight at the hot breath against his ear as Chakotay whispered to him.

Tom chuckled softly, and allowed Chakotay to help him upright and turn him until they stood face to face in each other's arms. He sighed as warm lips closed over his, tasting the uniqueness of his lover as Chakotay possessed his mouth with the same eagerness as displayed when he possessed his body. He molded himself into the kiss, moaning with satisfaction as strong fingers raked through his hair. Eventually, they pulled back

"Will you come to bed now?"

With a glint of mischief, Tom sniffed the air, wrinkling up his nose and tilting his head slightly. The scent of sweat and sex lay heavy in the small bathroom. It was not unpleasant, but it gave Tom the excuse he needed.

"Shower first? But not a sonic shower. A real shower... with water."

Chakotay grinned. "Let's save on replicator rations and share one."

Together they slipped into the shower area and programmed for water, sighing in pleasure at the liquid heat running over their sweaty flesh. They washed quickly, knowing they could not use too much water, soaping each other gently and then rinsing clean.

Eventually, clean and dry, they tumbled naked into their shared bed, with arms flung across each other's waists and legs entwined. Chakotay ordered the lighting down until they were locked into an intimacy of darkness but Tom felt no fear for he was no longer alone.

He thought about the past week, and the court-martial of Lieutenants Marshall and Graham. Chakotay had warned him that there was little chance of either of them spending any time in the Brig for what they had done to him. Both had been charged with _Conduct Unbecoming an Officer_. Graham had received a reprimand in her permanent record plus a loss of replicator rations and all privileges for two months. Marshall had received the same punishment, as well as a demotion to the rank of Ensign because of the greater role he had played against Tom.

As Marshall was now, officially, junior to Tom because of time spent in rank, Tom had been reinstated as Chief of Helm. Also, to avoid him falling within Tom's chain of command, Marshall had been moved to another operational area on-board Voyager, and was now answerable to Tuvok.

Tom smiled. He had a feeling Marshall was about to discover how much of a martinet Tuvok could be, especially when Tuvok felt no need to curb his logical tendencies towards a particular subordinate. He would command Marshall by the book.

Tom thought about the replicator rations they had just used up in the shower and he smiled. Janeway had seen to it that he had a large proportion of the rations confiscated by Marshall returned. Although she would have liked to forget his striking of a superior officer, she knew she had to play fair but let him off with a mark in his permanent record with an accompanying notation of extenuating circumstances.

At Chakotay's insistence, Janeway had moved the chain of command for the Helm directly under her so that there could be no barriers to his relationship with Chakotay. In exchange, Chakotay had accepted an increase in paperwork; a plethora of daily reports that had been Janeway's burden alone until now.

Chakotay shifted gently, bringing a smile to Tom's kiss-swollen lips as he recalled how much Chakotay disliked paperwork, and yet how happy he had been to take it on if it gave him their relationship. As if sensing his thoughts, Chakotay's arms tightened around him, and he felt a soft kiss pressed against his hair, sending a fresh flood of warmth through Tom that had little to do with sex.

So often in the past he had stood alone to face the consequences of his actions, or inaction. The friends who had promised to stand beside him crawling back into the woodwork rather than get tainted by association. Only here, on Voyager, had they stood by him, and he recognized his stupidity in not going to those friends when Marshall started to make his life a living hell. He'd let the past dictate the present, and he had let a series of unfortunate circumstances convince him that no one cared.

They had proved him wrong. Once they knew of the situation, Harry, B'Elanna and Neelix had stood squarely by his side while Tuvok and Captain Janeway dealt fairly with all concerned.

And then there was Chakotay, who had hardly left his side for a week, taking personal time to care for him... and loving him the way he had always wanted -- and needed -- to be loved. Completely, and without reservation.

Tom sighed as he relaxed against the broad chest, listening to the reassuring rhythm of his lover's heartbeat. Although they had been sharing this bed for less than a week, Tom knew this was where he belonged, where he had always belonged, and where he wanted to stay... forever.

THE END


End file.
